Untitled Marauders Fic
by justkaitiegrace
Summary: Remus' first year at Hogwarts was never going to be easy. Growing up as a werewolf not much was, and if he was honest with himself he barely expected to make it through the year; when his letter came he resolved to work hard and keep quiet, try and learn as much as he could and do his father proud. Remus wasn't expecting to make a friend. He definitely wasn't expecting three.
1. A Nervous Beginning

Madam Malkin had never seen a scragglier little boy enter her shop than the one that had just passed through the door, closely followed by what she assumed to be his rather nervous-looking father. She smiled at them in welcome and bustled over, collecting her wand from the counter on her way to greet her first customers for the day.

"Good Morning and welcome to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occaisons! What can I do for you today, sir?" The boy moved closer to his father as a measuring tape suddenly appeared and began to take the older man's measurements; he was pale and covered in faint scratches, Madam Malkin could see, and very timid. His father put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward firmly but kindly, clearing his throat.

"It is my son who is need of your services today, ma'am," he explained, "as he will shortly be commencing at Hogwarts." There was a hint of pride in his voice as he said told her this, but also a great deal of angst. The boy shrunk further toward his father at the mention of the School. Madam Malkin, although surprised (the boy looked too small for eleven - she had guessed him to be about 9) lead the pair to one of the stools she used for fittings and gestured the boy towards it. He didn't move.

Smiling kindly at him, she offered some words of encouragement.

"It's alright I won't hurt you, up you get." With a reassuring look from his father, he let go of his robes and stepped up onto the stool. Madam Malkin fetched the smallest set of Hogwarts robes she could find and handed them to him. When he put them on they fell past his feet, but not quite to the floor. Madam Malkin retrieved her clothes pins from the counter and moved to hem the robes at the boy's feet, however he flinched away when she came near him. Again she gave the boy a gentle smile.

"I just need to take up these robes, see?" She fluttered the long black fabric. "Otherwise you might get blown away with the owls!" He smiled nervously at her joke and allowed her to begin pinning the robes up around his feet. As she did this she murmured, "There we go, see? I don't bite." The boy went rigid as she said this, causing the robes to move unexpectedly and Madam Malkin to pin herself to the fabric by accident. The boy apologised immediately, as did his father, talking very quickly.

"Terribly sorry, he's just nervous, and yesterday he received a nasty bite from our cat, and he's scared to be leaving home, I'm so sorry..." He gave his son a sharp look, then glanced nervously out of the shop window. "Uh, is there any way for you to do this a bit faster? I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but we have lots to do today." Madam Malkin, having finished pinning the boy's robes, straightened up to talk to his father.

"Of course sir," she said, flicking her wand towards the robes, which immediately began stitching themselves together, much to the boy's terror. He did not make a sound though, and a moment later the needles stopped stitching and flew back to their box on the counter. Looking at boy, who was now examining his robes in the mirror with a weak smile on his face, she said, "You can take those off now, dear," and to his father, "that will be 14 sickles, thanks." He paid her and they left the shop, the tiny boy clutching the parcel containing his new robes to his chest. "Good luck!" Called Madam Malkin, and the boy waved, a smile returning to his pale, scratched face.

The next place on their list was to be the apothecary, but after checking his watch the small boy's father lead him instead to a dusty old store called Olivander's. The bell tinkled as they entered and moments later a slightly frazzled old man appeared behind the counter. He gave the boy and his father an appraising look then said quietly,

"Ah yes. Dumbledore mentioned I'd be meeting you this year." His gaze lingered on the small, scruffy boy, but his next words were clearly addressed to his father. "You may leave him with me if you wish. You know your secret is safe here." The boy's father nodded his thanks and bent to talk to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, I have to collect some of your other equipment before it gets too crowded. I'll be back in no time at all." His son gripped his arm tightly and cast a fearful glance at the old wizard still staring at him from behind the counter. His father squeezed his shoulder. "It's alright. Mr Olivander knows." With another encouraging shoulder squeeze the boy's father nodded to Olivander and hurried out of the shop. The boy looked up at the old wizard and gripped his parcel tighter in front of him, as if it were a shield. There was a tense silence for a moment, then;

"Remus Lupin, it is a pleasure to meet you indeed." The ancient wizard smiled down at the scared little boy, and extended a hand towards him. Slowly, Remus reached out and shook it weakly. Olivander's eyes twinkled. "Now, now, that won't do, how do you expect to keep hold of a wand with a grip like that?" He offered his hand again and this time Remus took it and gave it a squeeze as he shook it. "Much better!" Olivander exclaimed, reaching under the counter and producing two dusty, rectangular boxes. "I took the liberty of selecting two possible candidates before you arrived, to speed up the process." He removed the lid from one box and took out a polished length of dark wood, holding it handle-first towards Remus. "Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Nine and a half inches. Nice and supple." Remus took the wand hesitantly, looking extremely nervous. Nothing happened. "No, definitely not. Here." Olivander handed him the second wand, which was pale and long. "Yew and Unicorn hair, 15 inches." Again Remus took the wand, but again nothing happened. Olivander squinted his eyes at him and took the wand back. His fingers fluttered along the shelves and slid out more wand boxes, though he didn't take any. Finally, Remus' curiosity overwhelmed his shyness. In a quiet voice, he asked;

"I'm sorry sir, but what was wrong with those wands? The second one was a bit long, but the first one seemed alright." Olivander stopped and returned to a box that he'd slid partially out of the shelf. Taking it out, he opened the box and examined the wand inside.

"Bit long, eh? Try this. Ten and a quarter inches, cypress and unicorn hair. Pliable." He handed it Remus who gasped in a mix of fear and wonder as bright sparks flew from the wand's tip. Olivander smiled. "The wand chooses the wizard, dear boy. No one knows why, or how, only that while a wizard can work with almost any wand, for his best work he needs his own." Confused and a still a little shocked by the sparks, Remus handed back his wand so it could be wrapped and paid for.

"But what if a wand doesn't-" his question was cut off by the opening of the door as his father entered, weighed down with school supplies.

"Found one yet?" He asked, and Mr Olivander tapped the parcel on the counter.

"Indeed. Seven Galleons, please." Remus' father handed over the money, and Remus eagerly took his new wand. "Good day to you both," he said as they headed out of his shop. "And Remus," he called, before the boy had exited completely, "no witch or wizard has ever left my shop without a wand, but if they do you'll be the first to know." Remus nodded and scurried to catch up with his father, who was heading towards a large and extremely lopsided store with stacks of books piled high in its windows. Looking at all the coloured covers Remus felt excitement pushing away his nerves.

"Our last stop." Said his father, opening the door for him and following him inside. Remus' eyes widened as he took in the high shelves, stacked with volumes with strange and fascinating titles. _The Trouble with Tea Leaves_ was perched precariously upon a stack of books about divination; the psychedelic cover of _Modern Magical Marvel_ s caught his eye as he passed; and over in the Muggle Studies section he swore he could hear music coming from a large volume entitled _Beatlemania: The Magic of Music._ His father smiled down at him.

"Why don't you go and choose something you'd like to read? I'll be over by the counter." He nudged Remus towards the shelves and approached the middle-ages wizard at the counter, taking out the Hogwarts booklist. Remus wandered the shelves, dragging his hands across the covers and stopping every now and then to take a book down and read the back. Eventually his hands came to rest on a magnificent tome, it's cover hard leather and decorated with moving etchings of magical creatures and the title _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He took it from the shelf, standing on his tip-toes to reach it properly, and opened it. On the inside cover was a photo of a handsome young wizard captioned 'Newt Scamander' and a blurb about his life. The photo grinned at Remus and pointed to the contents page. With a start he realised it was urging him towards the chapter on Werewolves. He looked at the picture of the author, horrified, but the man in the photograph didn't seem to care. On the contrary, he looked straight at Remus and winked. Remus almost dropped the book in shock. Hands shaking, he turned to the page the photograph had indicated and begun reading.

 _Among my travels I have met many a misunderstood creature, though none so thoroughly misjudged as the Werewolf. Considered by most to be highly dangerous and a threat to wizard kind, I was apprehensive before my first meeting with one. I soon found out, however, that the man I was so afraid of sharing a meal with was in fact quite normal, and to my surprise I rather liked him_.

Remus' eyes read and re-read the opening paragraph, moving so fast they were almost a blur. A wide smile spread on his small face. Hurrying back to his father he placed the book on the counter beside the rest of his school books. His father looked taken aback.

"Erm, are you sure you want this one?" He asked, and Remus nodded enthusiastically. He looked at the large volume and back at his excited son. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Remus this happy, but was worried that it might not last when he reached the section on dangerous creatures. Still, a promise was a promise, so he paid for the book along with all the school texts and handed it to his son, who immediately opened it again, this time reading from the beginning. They exited the shop and left Diagon Alley just as the morning crowd was arriving. There was still one week until he would be leaving for Hogwarts, and they had one more challenge to get through before then: there was to be a full moon tomorrow night.


	2. The Scarlet Steam Engine

By the time September 1 came around, Remus was exhausted. The last full moon had not been an easy one. It left him with deep scratches over his back, chest and legs which couldn't be healed magically, the worst of which was a deep gash on his right shoulder blade that his father had needed to bandage for him. The bandages were visible beneath his loose t-shirt and as he packed his trunk he kept pausing to re-adjust the neck so it covered them. When he stooped in front of his mirror to pick up the brass telescope he had been fiddling with the night before, he noticed it had slipped yet again. Frustrated, he threw the telescope into his trunk and yanked of the t-shirt, revealing a pale, skinny frame covered in pink scratches and white scars. Turning away from his worn reflection, he walked over to his trunk and packed the telescope more carefully, wrapping it in his t-shirt.

"Remus, are you ready? We need to leave soon!" His father's voice carried through the house. Remus hurriedly collected the rest of his things and piled them haphazardly in his trunk, taking one of the carefully folded polo-neck sweaters and tugging it roughly over his head as he did so. Taking one last look around his messy bedroom, he jumped on the lid of his trunk and, with some difficulty, fastened the lock.

"Ready father!" He called, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and heaving his trunk through the door. His mother joined him in the hallway.

"Are you sure you're not forgetting something?" She asked, stooping to take Remus' trunk from him. He started checking things off with his fingers.

"Robes, wand, telescope, cauldron, potions ingredients, quills, ink, parchment, books… Books! My book!" He exclaimed, running immediately back into his bedroom. He emerged moments later gripping his treasured copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , which he was already one quarter of the way through. His mother smiled as she watched him place it carefully into his satchel. Though she had been married to a wizard for twelve years and knew a lot about the magical world, she still enjoyed listening to Remus recounting the adventures of Newt E. Scamander. Even if he was telling her something she already knew, she loved the way his face lit up like a globe while he was talking. It was the happiest she had ever seen her son. Her insides clenched at the thought of not seeing him until Christmas, but she swallowed these emotions and grinned at Remus.

"Ready to start your adventure?" she asked him. He nodded back, his entire skinny frame shaking with the force of the movement. "Then let's go!"

The car ride into London was short and uneventful. Remus' mother drove and the family sang along to the muggle radio station she liked, which played a mix of the newest releases and older classics. As they wound their way through the narrow London streets a thought occurred to Remus.

"Dad?" He asked, over the loud chorus of David Bowie's _Changes_ (a family favourite). "Dad!" He shouted, when he got no reply. Remus' father turned down the volume and spun in his seat to look at him.

"Yes, son? Is something wrong?" He asked, a look of concern replacing the smile on his face.

"No, not at all," Remus answered, "I was just wondering… Could I take a radio to Hogwarts?" His father thought for a minute.

"I don't see why not." He said finally. Remus grinned.

"I think taking a radio is a brilliant idea!" His mother chimed in. "How about one of those little pocket ones?" She scanned the streets they passed on their way to the station, looking for a record store. Finally, two streets over from King's Cross, they got lucky. Remus jumped out of the car and ran into the store ahead of his mother, while his father waited in the idling car. Inside the store was almost as magical as Diagon Alley. A hazy smoke filled the air with a peculiar scent; shelves of records lined the walls, organised alphabetically and sporting covers of every color of the rainbow; Diana Ross's _I'm Still Waiting_ (the current no. 1 hit) rang out from the record player on display at the counter; bright posters advertising singles, records and tours plastered every available wall; and in a display case next to the counter was a selection of portable pocket radios. Remus made a bee-line for them as his mother entered behind him, turning up her nose slightly at the smell. She joined Remus in browsing the radios and together they selected a small cherry red model. As they approached the counter to pay, Remus noticed a sign behind the desk, _Free poster with every purchase!_ and dashed off to choose one. A few minutes later he was walking out of the shop with a large black and white poster rolled up under his arm and the brand new radio wrapped safely in newspaper, his mother inhaling deeply now that they were back in fresh air. After driving the two blocks to the station Remus tucked the radio carefully into his satchel, then crammed the poster into his overflowing trunk with great difficulty.

Accompanied by his parents he wound his way through the maze of platforms, his eyes focused on the signs above the platforms. As he approached platforms nine and ten he expected to see his platform materialise in the same way as the sign above the Leaky Cauldron, but even as he got closer nothing happened. He began to panic and looked frantically about the station for any sign of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Worry and doubt began to creep in to his mind, and for a moment he was struck with the fear that his condition made him unable to see the platform. He turned to his parents, about to voice his fears, when his father caught hold of his shoulder and spun him towards the brick barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Remus," he began, his tone serious, "I want you to watch me, and then follow with your mother. Make sure you hold onto her." He turned from them and strode quickly and purposefully toward the barrier. As he neared it, his pace quickened to a jog, the trolley containing Remus' trunk veering slightly on it's old, rusty wheels. Remus watched as his father made no signs of slowing and cried out, expecting to see him collide with barrier at full impact, expecting to hear a loud crash as the trolley, his trunk, and his dad raced head-first into the bricks. Instead, Remus' father passed through the barrier as though it were made of thin air. Confounded, Remus stood for a moment, staring the spot where his father had vanished, and reached his hand out to hold his mother's. She took it and squeezed it gently. After they both recovered from the shock of Remus' father's sudden disappearance, his mother spoke.

"Well… I suppose we better follow him." She looked uncomfortable at the idea, an emotion Remus mirrored. Still, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, staring down the barrier.

"On three." He told his mother, gripping her hand tightly.

"One."

Remus began to walk to wards the barrier, his mother striding nervously beside him.

"Two."

He began to jog, half to keep up with his mother's longer strides and half in an effort to quell the nerves racing through every inch of his body.

"Three!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and broke into a run, his mother quickening to keep up with him. Suddenly, with a sensation like that of passing through a cloud, he could hear a roar of sound around him. Cautiously he opened his eyes and found himself observing a large, bustling crowd on an old-fashioned train platform. Witches and wizards in robes of all colours rushed this way and that, fussing over their children and calling out greetings to friends, and students gathered in groups, catching each other up on their holidays. Steam was gushing over the platform and Remus's eyes searched for its source, eventually resting on a huge scarlet steam engine bearing the title _The Hogwarts Express_. He gaped in awe at the size and beauty of the train, nothing like the engines he saw speeding down the tracks near their home.

"Pretty spectacular, hey?" Came the voice of his father, grinning at his son's wonder. "Come on, we'll find you a compartment." He led Remus and his mother into one of the carriages, passing compartment after compartment of Hogwarts students, young and old. Finally, towards the end of the train, they found a few empty ones. Remus's father stowed his trunk and took a small, wrapped box from his pocket, handing it to his son. Remus looked at him questioningly.

"Just something for the journey." He said, and shared a mischievous smile with Remus' mother. The conductor's whistle sounded from outside and his father drew him into a tight hug to say good bye, followed by a longer, teary embrace from his mother. They stepped back on to the platform and called to Remus through the compartment's open window.

"Stay safe baby!" "Have fun son!" "Don't forget to write us!" The whistle sounded again, cutting off the rest of their shouts, and with a heave the steam engine slowing began to move. Remus waved to his parents until the train rounded a bend and he could no longer see the platform, then drew himself back into his compartment, feeling s few tears making warm tracks down his cheeks. Now that his parents were gone and he was alone his nerves began to sink in. What if something happened? What if someone found out? What if he arrived at the school and discovered he was no longer welcome?

He closed the compartment window and drew his satchel to his chest, wondering if this was a good idea after all. In the corridor he heard students laughing and talking, playing games with their friends and searching for compartments. No one came to his, however, and so there he stayed, alone, like always.


End file.
